


dreams are now your destiny (reach with all your might)

by i_crave_sleep_and_chocolate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Title: Harry Potter Adopts Himself, Crack, F/F, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Harry Potter is tired, Hufflepuff Harry Potter, In This House We Stan Everyone But Dumbledore, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, The Author Regrets Nothing and Everything, This Fic Gets Real Weird Real Fast, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Tired and Confused, Tom Riddle Is Okay, Tom Riddle Needs a Hug, Tom Still Has An Obsession With Riddles, Worry Not No Weasley Bashing, Wrong Boy-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), and names, bear with me here, he gets one, no beta we die like men, of sort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28904370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_crave_sleep_and_chocolate/pseuds/i_crave_sleep_and_chocolate
Summary: Harry Potter was retrieved from the dead and sent to finish the battle with Voldemort.Of course, then he dies again.But this time, he wakes up in the year 1985, outside of an orphanage, where a girl with strange green eyes and a scar on her face makes him take “saving himself” to a whole new level.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 27
Kudos: 112





	1. In Which Harry Dies. Again.

**Author's Note:**

> so i was digging through some clutter in my drive, and found an old fic of mine called Lies and Betrayal, which I actually once posted on my ao3. but there was a huge war in the comments — which is why i ended up deleting it.  
> but, anyway, it had some promise, so i completely rewrote it (not that there was much to rewrite, it was like, one chapter) and edited a lot of concepts and characters, and i’m actually pretty happy with the result.  
> anyway, enjoy!!!

He should have seen this coming.

Things had never gone  _ right  _ for him, so why should they bloody well start  _ now? _

He feels offended on his behalf, however. A killing curse to the  _ back _ .

One of the rules of dueling, Hermione had once told him, is that you can’t hit the other person in the back. It simply isn’t done. It’s seen as cowardice — perhaps worse. Dishonorable, and one who does it has their name sullied for the rest of their life — and perhaps after.

So of  _ course  _ he wasn’t paying attention while dueling Voldemort, and of  _ course  _ some Death Eater sent him a Killing Curse.

He didn’t even  _ know  _ who killed him

And wasn’t that just sad?

He vaguely registered the fact that if he was dead, he shouldn’t be able to think, much less complain about his less-than-grandiose death. But that was all he could do. Think. He couldn’t feel his surroundings, or his own body. He couldn’t see, and  _ definitely _ couldn’t hear.

He felt...disembodied somehow. Was this death? Not the white Kings Cross station, but just a spirit, drifting through darkness, with nothing but his thoughts?

Damn. This was shaping up to be a boring afterlife.

On the flip side, he realized he should probably be...sad about his passing. Truth be told, he was more annoyed at the  _ way  _ he died then anything else. He had already prepared himself for his death, he supposed, and perhaps that made him less averse to it then he should be.

But to be honest? He was just...tired.

Tired of the war. Tired of death. Tired at Voldemort, at the Wizarding World at large, at magic and wizards and wands, of...everything.

Too many people gone. Too many sacrifices.

They would be fine without him. They were all their share of skilled duelers, and without him, there was but one more horcrux, Nagini, and Neville seemed to have that covered.

He was, however...bored.

He didn’t know how much time passed. Could be a minute, could be a century. Time seemed to work differently, in this dark world.

Eventually, however, he heard a voice. It was quiet, a soft whisper, but Harry could hear it almost as if that person was shouting in his ear.

_ It doesn’t matter the universe...you are always the prophecy’s child. _

And suddenly, he was floating, down...down...down…

_ THUD. _

Pain shot through him, and Harry groaned as agony traveled through his left arm. He spit out a pile of dirt from his mouth.

Was he back at the battle? Had he been risen once again?

But...no.

There were no bolts of light shooting through the air, no clusters of people fighting. No blood. No bodies. And  _ definitely  _ no Hogwarts.

Wherever he was, it was nowhere  _ near  _ the Battlefield.

He sat up from his awkward position, and fumbled around blindly for his glasses, before realizing they were missing. Where were his glasses? Harry groaned, realizing they were just... _ not here _ .

The first time he got reincarnated, he had his glasses. Was that a one-time offer? Seriously?

He turned, trying his best to figure out his surroundings, even with his hazy eyesight.

There was a bare, tree-shaped blob next to him, bare of leaves as far as he could see and dusted with something...he squinted, leaning closer. White. Snow?

Why would there be  _ snow _ ? It was bloody May. There should be rain, sure, but  _ snow _ ?

He was so confused.

He turned to look behind him, and noticed that there was a small, brown-ish building just ten feet away from him. There were words painted on a sign, but due to his glass-less state he couldn’t make them out. Whatever, it was cold outside, and there were some gray-blobs in the sky that were probably storm clouds, and there was a building  _ right in front of him _ .

He went inside.

The first thing Harry noticed when he stepped inside the falling-apart building was that it was somehow  _ even colder  _ inside than outside, and the second thing he noticed was that this was an orphanage.

Or a school.

He was going with orphanage, given the depressed faces of the children (not that he could see them very well, but he could make out a few frowns. He  _ really  _ wanted his glasses back.)

“Hello,” a pear-shaped woman said cheerfully. She smelled strongly of strawberries, and her smile was blindingly (ha, ha) white. “Are you here to adopt?”

Ah. So this  _ was  _ an orphanage. Good to have confirmation. 

“Uh, no…” he muttered, “‘s cold outside.” And he had a headache. Not a “Voldemort” headache, just...a normal headache that hurt like a bitch. He stifled a groan, slumping against the wall. 

“Oh, dear,” the pear-shaped woman said sympathetically. “I can get you some warm water, if you want.”

“No, don’t need to…” he muttered. “I’m fine.”

“Well, if you say so,” the woman said. “I’m Samantha, by the way,”

“Hi,” Harry said flatly. “Uh...where is this place?”

Samantha stared at him for a moment. “My god, you really  _ must  _ be terribly lost!” she exclaimed. “We’re in London, deary.”

“Oh,” he said stupidly. “Alright,”

“Are you  _ sure  _ you’re not here to adopt?” Samantha asked, staring at his face with a contemplative frown. “Because you look an awful lot like a girl here.”

“I… do?”

“Ah, yes. She’s an odd one, rather quiet. Her eyes are the same shade as yours… and her skin is rather dark too. Orea Potter. She’s a queer one.”

“Potter?” He sputtered. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, quite.”

“I — oh,” Harry thought for a moment. It didn’t make any sense. He didn’t think there were any living Potters left — or maybe it was just a coincidence? Potter  _ was  _ a common last name. But… the woman had said…  _ eyes the same shade as his _ … well, that didn’t make much sense either. Potters were supposed to have amber eyes like his father — he had inherited his strange green eyes from Lily.

“Er… can I see her?” He asked, just wanting to be sure. If there was another Potter alive… well, maybe he could give her something to look forward to in the future. 

A smile bloomed across Samantha’s face. “Of course!” she said cheerily. “Come into my office so we can discuss about the details,”

Harry wondered if reminding her a second time that he wasn’t here to adopt was a good idea. He decided against it, not wanting to be kicked out just yet. 

As they made their way toward the lone door on the side of the wall — her office, he guessed — Samantha turned to a boy slouched against the wall and glaring to ‘be a dear and call Orea’. He nodded, turning toward the area that presumably led to the rooms.

“John is a dear boy,” Samantha told him as she pushed open the door to her office, which was a haphazard mess of files and shoeboxes — also containing files. “He’s just a little standoffish,”

Harry nodded.

They waited for John to bring Orea, the stilted silence turning from awkward to uncomfortable very quickly. 

Finally, John opened the door, a small girl trailing behind him. 

Harry  _ stared _ .

Impossible.

There was  _ no way _ .

It was  _ him _ . But it wasn’t, because he wasn’t a  _ girl _ , and he was seventeen.

Her eyes were a bright, unnatural green, her skin a chocolate brown, and her hair was black and unruly, just like his. She couldn’t have been any older than five years old, and she was staring right back at him with the same sort of disbelief.

Harry wondered if he had any siblings — but that would be impossible. His parents died when he was a year old, and weren’t ever able to get another child.

But this… this was insane.

“Oh, my!” Samantha chuckled. “You two are even more alike than I thought! Well, Orea, this is… er, what did you say your name was?”

“Harry,” he said, trying vainly to tear his eyes away from Orea’s face. “Er… what year is it?”

Samantha stared at him in confusion. “1985,” she said, bemused. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m great,” he said quickly. “Just checking,”

_ 1985 _ .

Bloody hell.

There was no way. No buggering way.

And yet, the proof was right in front of him.

But it didn’t make any sense! Orea — that wasn’t even his name, for starters — was a girl! He was not! 

And yet… he remembered, dizzily, of Hermione talking about alternate universes, a week after Ron had left them. It had been his turn to guard, but she had joined him anyway, and she told him about the theory muggles had about parallel worlds, where there were small differences, or big ones. “There could be one where we had never met,” she had told him. “Or… or I never got my magic, or something like that. One where we have normal lives.” They had both laughed bitterly at the thought.

So… an alternate universe. Where he was a girl. But then, what was he  _ doing  _ in another universe? What about  _ his _ ?

Harry was startled out of his thoughts by a tug on his sleeve. He turned down to see Orea staring up at him — and  _ Christ _ , it was strange.

“Are… are you my dad?” Orea asked.

“Um...no?” Harry said, eyes wide as he stared at...well... _ him _ . But as a her. Again, it was  _ weird as fuck _ .

Orea nodded, eyes slightly downcast. She seemed seconds away from crying.

“Um…” Damn, Harry was not prepared for this. He couldn’t just leave himself — herself —  _ agh _ , whatever, he just couldn’t leave them. It wasn’t fair. Granted, life at the orphanage with Samantha wasn’t half as bad as life with the Dursleys, but it was still...not ideal. 

“I’m...your uncle,” he blurted. His heart stopped. Orea turned back to stare at him, Samantha’s eyes shining with happiness.

What did he just do.

_ WHAT DID I JUST DO? _

“Oh, wonderful!” Samantha exclaimed, smiling widely. “It’s so fantastic that you could find Orea...but you said you weren’t here to adopt?”

_ I wasn’t _ , he thought, but he couldn’t say it out loud. It would make him seem like a monster...and crush Orea’s heart. To know that she had living relatives… and then be told that they didn’t want her… well, Harry didn’t want  _ this  _ version of himself to have to go through that again.

“I—” he said awkwardly. “I’ve been looking in a lot of orphanages, and didn’t know if this one would have her, so…”

Samantha’s mouth formed into a sympathetic O, before she was smiling again. “Well, that’s lovely! I’ll just need to see your paperwork, of course.”

“Uh…” Harry's brain screeched to a halt. “Paperwork?”

“Something to prove you are who you say you are. You can understand. Can’t have random people picking up children!”

“Right. Paperwork.” Harry said flatly. “Uh, yeah, I have it right…” he reached into his left pocket, pulling out something that was  _ decidedly  _ not paperwork. “Here.  _ Obliviate. Confundo.” _

The woman 's eyes instantly became glassy, and he added a sleeping spell for good measure. She’d wake up in an hour, thinking she had just drifted off. Orea turned to stare at him, then at the woman, then back at him, jaw dropping. 

“You — you,”

“Uh...yeah. Don’t worry about her. She’s just…”

“YOU DID MAGIC?!”

“ _ Shhhh _ ,” he hissed. “Not so loud.”

“Sorry,” she whispered. “ _ You did magic?” _

“Yes. But it’s a secret. You can’t  _ tell  _ anyone.”

Orea mimed zipping her lips. “Okay,” she whispered. “Are you still going to adopt me?” She asked hopefully.

Harry paused. “Uh…” he said. “Sure.”

Orea grinned. “Will I get to learn magic?” she asked excitedly.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know,” he fibbed. Seeing the disappointed look on her face, he added, “Probably,”

After that, he was  _ bombarded  _ with questions as they left the orphanage, the children not sparing them a second glance as they walked out. Orea wanted to know  _ everything _ . 

What was his name? ( _ Harry Potter,  _ he said, and Orea was excited to learn they had the same last name.)

Where did he learn magic? ( _ Hogwarts _ , he said, and Orea was strangely delighted at the odd name.)

What spell did he use on Samantha? (He didn’t tell her those, just saying she’d learn in due time.)  __

Where did he get his wand? ( _ Diagon Alley _ , and she immediately demanded to know everything about the place.)

It was...nice, strangely. Orea excitedly babbling questions, and listening attentively whenever he answered. When was the last time someone had listened to what he said?

But, quickly, realization hit him.

Fuck.

He had just kidnapped a child.

_ Him _ . He had just kidnapped himself.

Pretending to be their  _ uncle _ .

Dammit. Now what?

He didn’t have any muggle money on him. The only way to get money would be from the Wizarding World, which meant Gringotts.

Harry sighed, turning to look at Orea, who gazed back at him questioningly.

“You know how I told you that you couldn’t go to Diagon Alley till you’re eleven?”

“Yes,” Orea huffed, still irritated.

“Well, that’s just changed. Come on.”

Orea’s eyes lit up, and a smile spread across her face.

“No questions until we get there,” Harry added quickly, knowing what was coming.

She pouted, but nodded.

And off they went, Harry desperately hoping he hadn’t just made a big mistake.


	2. In Which There are Goblins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what it says on the tin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo darlings! i’m here with a new chapter! i probably rambled in the notes for way too long last time, but i’m still going to.
> 
> if any of you are curious, the title of this fic is from the poem The Phoenix Who Survived by DeantheBard… i thought it fit this fic well. the tags in this story are a mess, and be prepared for even more — i probably left a lot out that i will remember later.
> 
> anyway, enjoy!

_ “You know how I told you that you couldn’t go to Diagon Alley till you’re eleven?” _

_ “Yes,” Orea huffed, still irritated. _

_ “Well, that’s just changed. Come on.” _

It...took longer than he thought it would. Much, much longer. And the process was  _ far  _ more chaotic then he had expected, involving a cat, a gun, and a pair of stolen glasses — but eventually, they arrived at the entrance to Diagon Alley.

Now armed with sight, Harry noticed something on Orea he hadn’t seen before — a jagged scar on her cheek.

When they reached the entrance to HDiagon Alley, Harry tapped the correct pattern onto the brick wall with his wand (Orea stared at it in awe, and Harry informed her she would be seeing a lot more wands once they entered Diagon). 

And...they were in.

It was fun, he realized, to see someone else’s awe and wonder in a world familiar to him. As he described and explained everything they came across, Orea’s awe grew. She wanted to visit every single shop in the Alley, pulling a disappointed face when he told her they were only going to the bank, but growing excited once more when she was informed that it was a bank run by goblins.

However, when they arrived at Gringotts, he firmly told her that she needed to wait  _ outside  _ for him, and not go in. He knew how ferocious goblins were, and if anything went wrong… well, he didn’t want her involved. She threw a giant tantrum, but eventually she conceded.

Stepping into the building was… slightly terrifying.

Every single goblin glared at them, and he wondered if they knew about his...ahem... _ break in _ at the bank. Granted, they probably glared at  _ everyone _ , but still, it was scary.

It wasn’t until he was standing in front of a goblin standing behind a desk did he realize that he didn’t have his vault key.

Shit.

He had heard about how the goblins got when someone didn’t have some form of proof of who they were. 

“Uh…” he said, thinking desperately. “Is there...some other way to access whichever vaults I have?”

The goblin, Fierceteeth, raised an eyebrow. “ _ Whichever vaults? _ ” He repeated in disbelief. “Do you not know which vaults you have?” His voice dripped with disdain.

Harry cringed. “Not — er — not exactly?” He said. “I know I  _ have  _ a vault, and one of them is the Potter vault...but...I think I may have others? I don’t know?”

Fierceteeth’s eye  _ twitched _ , and a blood vessel spasmed on his forehead. “Right,” he snarled, baring his teeth. “A blood test would work fine...but if you do not have a vault here...we do not like  _ liars _ ,” the goblin was practically spitting the words in his face. 

Harry nodded, glad he told Orea to stay outside. He didn’t want anything happening to her… or for her to get insulted and make a fuss at the goblin. That would decidedly  _ not  _ go over well.

“Er...right, I’ll take a blood test, then,” he stammered.

Fierceteeth  _ grinned _ , and Harry felt a trickle of apprehension run down his spine. Why did he get the feeling that this goblin was slightly more… bloodthirsty than others?

The goblin held out a sharp, stone knife, and as Harry hesitantly reached out to take it from him, Fierceteeth slashed his palm. 

Harry jumped back, shocked. “Hey!” He protested.

Fierceteeth raised a hairless eyebrow. “You wanted blood-testing, yes?”

“A little warning could have helped,” Harry grumbled. The goblin pulled out a glimmering paper, and gestured at it. With a start, Harry realized that he wanted him to drop his blood onto it.  _ Blood test _ , Harry grumbled in his mind as he reached out and hesitatingly let the blood from the open wound slide onto the paper.  _ I should have guessed it would be so…  _ He couldn’t find an actual word to describe it.  _ Barbaric? Unsanitary? Rude as fuck?  _

He decided not to tell the goblins what he thought about their blood tests, instead focusing on the glimmering paper where words were slowly starting to appear.

It was… written in another language. Of course it was.

However, even if the words were written in English, Harry doubted he would be able to understand a word. There were bunches and bunches of texts, graphs, and runic sequences, and he knew from withstanding long lectures from Hermione that the legal system of the goblins was the most complex and indecipherable in the Wizarding World — no one but the creatures themselves seemed to understand them.

So he waited awkwardly as Fierceteeth carefully looked through the paper, hoping that because he was in a different timeline, the blood test didn’t work or didn’t show that he had any vaults. And then he would probably be punished. Gruesomely.

Finally, after several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Fierceteeth spoke, “ It says here you broke into Gringotts… twelve years into the future,” He looked up, and his eyes were gleaming a slight red, as Harry tried and failed to not look panicked. 

“Okay, so here’s the thing,” Harry said, doing what he normally did in a crisis — he rambled. “It was because there was this immortal guy, Volde — You-Know-Who,” he amended. “And he was killing a lot of people, so we needed to kill  _ him _ , right? Right. So, like, as I said, he was basically immortal, because he divided his soul into a bunch of pieces and stuffed them in stuff, and one of those stuff was actually  _ here _ , in Gringotts, so of course, we needed to get it, so we kinda, had to, like, sorta, break into this place because, you know, yeah. And so we  _ did  _ break into this place, but we almost died and the only reason we got let out was because we stole your dragon, and — and I probably shouldn’t have told you any of this,” he realized with mounting horror.

Throughout the entire ramble, the goblin had simply stared at him, red eyes seeming to grow darker.

“I am not worried about the break-in, Harry Potter,” he said flatly, and Harry started when hearing his name. “I want to know more about the fact that it was  _ twelve years in the future _ ,”

“Oh — um — really?” Harry squeaked. “I uh — I thought — goblins are supposed to be —,”

“I am well aware of what goblins are supposed to be,” Fierceteeth said flatly. “And rest assured we  _ will  _ be fixing all the cracks in our security. Now that we know, we will be making sure no one will be able to break in again. One small wizard boy getting through is hardly cause for alarm. We are an ancient race with magic beyond anything you Wandusers are capable of, and that is of no worry for us.” 

Harry stared. He had forgotten how — prideful goblins were. For good reason, he supposed. He knew that from now on, the security measures would be extreme. Then, he remembered what the goblin had  _ actually  _ wanted to know about. The thing where he was from the future. 

“I’m not  _ actually  _ from the future,” was the first thing Harry could think about blurting out. At the goblin’s unimpressed face, he hurried to explain, “Well, not  _ this  _ future, anyway. So, um… you know the Pollos Kósmos theory, right?” he said, trying to remember the word Hermione had said was used for the alternate universes.

“I am familiar with the πολλος κόσμος theory,” Fierceteeth said drily. “The goblins created the first form of it.”

“I — oh,” Harry blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know that. Er… right. So, that’s basically what happened to me. I somehow got thrown out of  _ my  _ timeline when I got struck with a killing curse, and then into  _ this  _ one. Twelve years in the past. I’m not actually from this universe, you see. Because, in this universe, I’m a girl, and  _ she’s  _ the one who “defeats” You-Know-Who, which —” Harry paused.  _ Which means she had a horcrux in her _ .

Dammit.

Dammit, dammit.

Harry stood there, shocked, for who knows how long, until Fierceteeth said, “Your… female version?”

Harry shook off his thoughts, shelving them for later, and said, “Uh… yeah. Orea Potter. She should be all over the papers, right?”

Fierceteeth paused, staring at him. “Do you mean  _ Dorea  _ Potter?” He asked. “The daughter of Lily and James Potter?”

He blinked. “Her name’s Dorea? Huh.”

Fierceteeth seemed to make a sound that was a half sigh, half groan, and 100% irritation. “It will most likely be best if I show you.”

“Show me what?”

The goblin didn’t reply, only grabbing something from under his desk, and sliding it over so Harry could see. He leaned forward to look.

**_DEFEAT OF HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED_ **

**_November 1, 1981_ **

_ You-Know-Who has been defeated at last! On the 31st of October, he went to kill Lily and James Potter, as well as their children. Unfortunately, both parents were murdered by his hand. _

_ However, when he turned his wand to kill Charlus Potter, he himself was killed.  _

_ Charlus Potter has been called the Boy-Who-Lived by those all over Britain, but sadly, his twin sister, Dorea Potter, was killed by the magical backlash it caused. _

Harry looked up at Fierceteeth. “I don’t understand,” he said, mind racing. 

The goblin sighed, and said, “Dorea Potter — or, if what you say is true —  _ you  _ are supposed to be dead. Killed by the magical backlash that took place when the killing curse rebounded off of Charlus Potter and You-Know-Who was defeated. Charlus Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived, not Dorea.”

“But — does that mean Dorea  _ isn’t _ me? Is Charlus me instead, just with a… different name?”

Fierceteeth flipped to the second page of the newspaper, and painted one clawed finger of a photo of a baby with reddish-brown hair and brown eyes. “ _ This _ is Charlus Potter. I think that, if I had to choose, I would say Dorea Potter is, in fact, this timeline’s version of you.”

“Wait, so… in the universe, I didn’t defeat Voldemort?” Fierceteeth shot him a warning look when he used the name, but Harry didn’t care, as pure  _ relief  _ swept over him. Orea (it felt odd, calling her  _ Dorea _ ) wouldn’t have to live a life of peril and misfortune and lies. She wouldn’t have to live up to expectations, and be betrayed, and killed, and tortured.

She could be  _ normal _ .

There was no Horcrux inside of her. But — his happiness dimmed as he looked at the picture of the giggling baby, presumably taken before his parent’s death.  _ This  _ poor sod would have to to deal with it instead. 

Fierceteeth clucked his tongue in answer to Harry’s previous question. “Well, they did say Dorea was  _ dead _ . Who knows what else they got wrong?”

Harry paused. He hadn’t thought of that. Something inside him squirmed as he remembered the scar on Orea’s cheek. Could that have been from Voldemort?

He wondered, vaguely, if Charlus growing up with the Dursleys would make him just like Harry. It was the experiences that shaped someone, right? So… if he had to go through the exact same thing  _ he  _ had… 

Harry was saved from this line of thinking when he continued reading through the newspaper and  _ choked _ . “Wait — what?”

Fierceteeth raised an eyebrow in question. 

“It says right here that Charlus is going to grow up with the  _ Weasleys _ ,” Harry said, bewildered.

“Ah. Yes. The Potters and Weasleys have been allies for many generations,” the goblin explained. “The Weasley family didn’t want him living with muggles, so they took him in,”

“Oh.” And for a brief moment, Harry felt  _ jealous  _ of Charlus, of this boy who got to live with a caring family like the Weasleys. It was something that he had imagined, in his earlier years of Hogwarts. What life would be like with a family like Ron’s. He missed them. He missed Ron and Ginny (oh god, Ginny) and Fred and George and — well, Percy hadn’t even been that bad, he supposed, before everything. He missed Mr. Weasley, with his unbridled curiosity and childish joy when he figured how a muggle invention worked. He missed Mrs. Weasley, the closest thing to a mother he had ever had. The closest thing to a  _ home  _ he ever had. 

“Mr. Potter?” Harry started, blinking tears out of his eyes. “Sorry,” he muttered, and, because he wanted to know if there were any other differences between this world and his, he skimmed through the article, and then was shocked yet  _ again _ .

Oh shit.

Fuck.

He had forgotten all about Sirius Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **harry:** hi
> 
>  **fierceteeth:** stop talking, you buffoon.
> 
> asdjhkjshkjhf i know these chapters are short compared to most fanfics, but that’s pretty much how all my fics will be. however, rest assured i probably won’t post any chapters less than 2k words, so you’ll at least get some content. 
> 
> to all those interested, πολλος κόσμος, or Pollos Kósmos is greek for “many worlds”. or at least i think it is. google translate is sketchy.
> 
> the names Charlus and Dorea come from who the fandom originally thought James’ parents were, and i really liked the concept of it, so i kept it. you can see something slightly similar in The Elixir. Orea will still be called Orea, btw. you’ll see why next chapter.
> 
> so, did you like the sort-of-cliffhanger? did you hate it? please tell me in the comments!
> 
> next chapter: some more goblin stuff and harry begins learning about the law

**Author's Note:**

> so, now you have a pretty good idea of what the fuck i was talking about in the summary.
> 
> i know all of this seems super rushed and ridiculous, but that’s pretty much my writing style — i’ll rush over the key stuff and then spend a long amount of time in one scene for no reason.
> 
> i don’t know how many chapters this is going to be… or if i’m even going to finish it. i have a bad habit of abandoning my fics and never looking back… so this will be a new experience for me if i get any farther then three chapters XD
> 
> expect weekly or bi-weekly updates, but i make no promises. i have a little more focus and time on my hands (meaning that now that i’m basically cut off from tumblr and ao3, i have more time to focus on actually writing fics) so we’ll see how consistent my updates are.
> 
> See you (hopefully) next week!


End file.
